The New Breed

[Bobo-Chan]

Please read the Prologue here before reading this.
This story will contain scenes of a graphic nature and strong language. No sexual content though.

Chapter 1

1 Year later…

The sky is a crimson red today, bleeding into the horizon; perhaps an omen of things to come. The snow has stopped but it's still bitterly cold, the average daily temperature is now about -7 Celsius, at night it can drop as low as -20.

My ears are filled with the incessant drone of rap music pouring out of the hanger behind me; the smell of gunpowder and explosives clings to my nostrils. A chilling breeze sweeps over my body, as goose bumps are sent down my spine I bury myself deeper in my sheets; futilely trying to ward off the cold.

As I close my eyes and begin to drift off, I start to think I may actually get some sleep. My mind becomes a blur and I can feel the tiredness overtaking my body. Suddenly, I’m jerked back to reality by the booming voice of my commanding officer. ‘Get ready boys, we’re buggin’ out in five. Our mission zone has been deemed a high chemical risk so you’ll need to suit up. Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em’.

He looks over to me; his facial features are extremely defined. A large scar runs across his face from cheek to cheek, cutting a chunk through his flat nose. He has a square face which compliments his wide forehead and strong set jaw. His matted grey hair sways softly in the breeze. ‘That includes you, Mi’ lady’ he says snidely as he turns towards the other hangers.

I heave myself up out of my makeshift bed, which consists of a roll matt for a mattress and some torn sheets for a blanket. Men come streaming out of the hanger, throwing and dribbling balls, dancing to the music and laughing loudly. Behold the new breed of soldier, brought up on porn, video games and junk food; thrust into a nuclear war and baptised by fire.

Leave any and all comments/criticisms here.

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 2

My name is Jessica Silverman; I come from a small town in California. I grew up just like any other girl, peaceful childhood, loving parents. The biggest problems in my life were getting a date to prom and buying the latest clothes.

I remember exactly where I was when the news about the attacks first came in; I remember it all down to the finest detail…
I was sitting alone in the garden; it was a crisp December morning, frost laced the grass illuminating the area in a white glow. Snowflakes began to slowly fall, drifting to the ground like leaves in an autumn breeze. It was almost Christmas, and with the UDG being just one day away from completion, the atmosphere of the town was joyous. People were revelling in the thoughts of the Cold War finally coming to and end; at long last the threat of a nuclear war would finally be lifted. At least, that’s what they thought.

As I sat there, pondering thoughts about the Christmas ball, my Dad came rushing outside. He had an air of shock and anxiety about him. I stood up and asked what was wrong; what he said next penetrated through to the depths of my heart. ‘It’s happened, the fucking reds did it. Get into the fallout shelter!’

I was numb with disbelief, what about the UDG? They said it would protect us, nuclear war was supposed to be a thing of the past, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
But it was happening, and I could do nothing to stop it.

I felt like an ant, sitting there with a man towering over me; a hose in one hand, insecticide in the other.

The next few months were hell. The shelter was underground; it consisted of one room where we all slept, a tight corridor leading into the living space, with a small kitchen attached to the side. The air was being constantly recycled, so chapped lips and dry throats became a daily occurrence. We lived off tinned foods and all the other long lasting food stuffs which had been stockpiled. We had to wait at least 3 months before we could leave the shelter, I didn’t think I could last that long down there. I reassured myself though, no matter how hard things are down here, at least I’m not on the surface…

For the first month there was no communication with the outside world. The ICBMs had been followed up with EMP missiles which had fried all electrical products. My days were spent sleeping, or reading the few books we had down in the shelter. My Mum spent the first few weeks constantly weeping, her two brothers were in Washington at the time and she feared the worst. My Dads anger and hatred towards the Soviets and Asians grew. He’d always been suspicious of their activities; he was one of the few who believed that they shouldn’t just be left to their own devices whilst the UDG was being built. He spent his time pottering around the shelter, cleaning the firearms he’d stocked down there. He was part of the Army Reserves, he wasn’t able to join up fully due to his career but he wanted to do at least that much. The suddenness of the attack had forced him to come into the family shelter. He was furious over being unable to get to a military base and have his chance to fight the Soviets.

The last war with Russia was in 1975. The Americans had managed to push through into the peak of Northern Vietnam and defeated the communist threat. Infuriated by this, the Russians deployed a substantial force in Northern Vietnam, with the backing of China, and commenced an attack on the American forces deployed there. Thus, Russia declared war on America. This war lasted 7 years, until a ceasefire was agreed in 1982. Sadly, my Grandfather was killed whilst fighting in that war. He lost his life in 1982, one week before the ceasefire was agreed. He was situated in Southern Vietnam, away from the bulk of the fighting; most of which was going on in the North. But, a small group of Soviet Paratroopers had dropped in behind the American lines, they massacred his entire platoon. 68 men lost their lives in the space of 7 minutes. My Dad idolized my Grandfather, he was what he’d always wanted to be; a war hero. Ever since his death, my Dad has harboured an undying hatred towards the Asians and Soviets for taking his fathers life.

As time passed he became more and more withdrawn, his anger swelled uncontrollably. I started to worry about him, he’d always been a loving father but I felt as if he’d been keeping something from me since I was a child, masking his true thoughts. I attempted to speak to him one day as he was cleaning his weapons, I made an off hand comment, saying ‘They must be pretty clean now you know’. This sent him into an unexpected spiral of rage. He began to shout at me, throwing things to the floor. Then, his true feelings emerged, ‘You wouldn’t understand! You’re just a girl! When we get out of this place, we need to fight! We can’t let the fucking commies take this country without a fight! If I had a son, he’d be on my side! Helping me plan for the resistance, he wouldn’t be afraid to fight. But what do I get? A fucking daughter, what good are you? You can’t fight; you’re of no use to the world once we get out of here!’

I couldn’t believe it. My head was whirring, I couldn’t think straight. Where had my loving father gone? Is this truly the extent of which someone’s hatred can drive them? I guess he’d always wanted a son…someone to look up to him in the way that he had looked up to his father, to long to join up and be just like him.

We didn’t speak much after that, my Mum acted like the mediator between the two of us; but what was said was said. Nothing could take back how he truly felt.

The strange thing was, I wasn’t angry at my father for feeling that way. I was desperate for him to like me, to regret saying that he wanted a son instead of a daughter. This was when I reached my resolve. I decided that as soon as we got out of this hellish shelter, I would join up and fight.

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 3

My boots crunch through the snow as I make my way back to the hanger. Upon entering through the main doors I’m met with the smell of oil, rusted metal and sweat. I make my way over to my locker which is at the far end of the room, there are about 40 men inside who are all getting ready for the mission; their conversations echo loudly throughout the large space. The mass of bodies has created a welcoming warmth, a stark contrast to the freezing temperatures outside.

‘You sure you’re in the right place lil’ lady? The kitchen’s back that way!’ shouts one of the soldiers as I walk past. ‘Yeah, so’s the laundry room!’ adds his friend. I shrug off the comments; ignore the bouts of laughter and carry on with my own business. I’ve been at the butt end of most jokes now due to my gender, but I’ve learned to ignore the remarks of the narrow minded. Luckily, only a 'select' few of the soldiers take any notice of my sex.

As I reach my locker, I pull on the handle and the door creaks loudly in protest of being opened. Reaching inside, I begin to pull out my gear. The chemical suit feels rubbery to the touch and it reeks of disinfectant; I step into it and slowly work my limbs into their correct spaces. I press the button on the side of the neck which sucks out the air and makes the suit air tight, the sound is reminiscent of gas leaking out of a cylinder. After sliding my hands into the matching gloves, I wrap a few layers of duct tape around my wrists to seal off my hands from the environment. I pull on my camouflage overalls and body armour, the chemical suit makes it harder for me to maneuver my fingers individually so it takes me a few minutes to get it on.

Once everything is on I feel a lot more weighted than earlier; the thick, Kevlar lined armor pulls downwards on my shoulders and makes my arms ache. I grab my gas mask, rucksack and helmet, and make my way over to the armoury to get my weapon. The armoury is on the other side of the air strip so the walk will give me time to adjust to the new clothing.


As I arrive at the armoury, most men already have their weapons and are loading up on ammo so I don’t have to wait in line. I step up to the large, rusted metal shack and show my soldiers ID to the man behind the counter; he checks it briefly, then hands me my weapon. It’s an M4 Carbine; the base of the barrel has a rounded hand guard with a rail on the bottom, the butt of the rifle has an extendable stock and on the forward mount there is an ACOG scope. The smooth metallic surface is freezing to the touch, enough to even penetrate the layers of rubber and clothing concealing my hands. I take the rifle, along with six clips of ammunition, two M67 fragmentation grenades and a singular smoke grenade. I turn around and look for a place to prepare my equipment; on the right, a large group of men are stood around several tables. They’re talking amongst themselves whilst loading up on gear; large plumes of steam are rising around them from their escaping body heat. Something tells me I won’t be welcome there.

I decide to make my way over to a lone set of tables about 20 meters away. After setting down my gear on the frozen tabletop, I then begin to rummage through my rucksack in search for my weapon attachments. My fingers close around something which sems to fit perfectly to the contours of my hand, I pull out the item to reveal that it is the grip for my rifle. I attach it securely to the rail on the underside of the hand guard, replace the ACOG scope with a reflex sight and stow the ACOG in one of the rucksacks side pockets. It’d be pretty tough to look down the sights of that thing with a gas mask on.

Once my weapon’s ready and all my ammunition is secure inside my tactical vest, I sit down and take a breather. The crimson sky has now turned a soft yellow. The sun, being unable to penetrate the smoke from the nuclear explosions, provides little heat so I wrap my arms tightly around myself to stay warm. A nauseating smell of decay lingers in the air; burying my face into the sleeve of my unioform provides little relief from the stench. I ponder over the mission briefing we were given two hours earlier. We are to travel to Los Angeles, drop in by air via Black Hawk helicopters, storm the Soviet comms building, destroy their relay tower; neutralizing all hostiles in the process, head to the evac zone and get the hell out of there. Sounds simple enough, if only things really were as simple as they sounded.

The Soviets seem desperate to cling onto the area as it’s their last strong point on the Western Coast. This has given way to some of the most intense fighting of the war. What remained of the city after the nuclear blasts has been all but eradicated by constant artillery and air bombardment. We are going to be landing in one of the few remaining urban sectors of L.A, so at least we’ll have some cover.

I should be scared, I should fear the enemy, I should be afraid to die. But I’m not; I don’t feel much anymore…

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 4

After what seemed like an eternity, electricity was finally restored. Most electrical equipment had been permanently fried from the EMP blast, but my dad had stashed an EMP proof case in the lower levels of the shelter. He brought it out and opened it up to reveal a small radio.

He rushed over to the electrical line he’d run from the mains to the shelter and plugged in the radio; all we got was static. The small amount of excitement we received from the restored electricity soon died. I retreated back to the sleeping quarters and my mom went to the kitchen to prepare dinner; but my Dad kept at it. He sat at the radio all night long, constantly trying to find a station. My mom became annoyed at the static and told him to stop; they both started shouting so I closed the door to block out the noise.

I’d been stuck in that shelter for 7 weeks now. We’d gone past the point of becoming annoyed at having to spend every hour together; it was as if my family hated each other. I still hadn’t spoken to my father since the incident 3 weeks ago, and my parents began to argue more and more often. My mom became less tolerant of my Dad’s fanatic obsession with fighting the Soviet’s and they would snap at each other constantly. This war wasn’t content with destroying my home and my country, now it was tearing apart my family.

About a week later, whilst me and my mom were having dinner, my dad was tuning the radio as part of his daily routine when suddenly; there was a break in the static. My Dad jumped up and put his ear as close as was humanly possible to the speaker. He turned the dial ever so slightly, as if it was a fine art, and some voices started to come through the speakers. He yelled out in triumph, he kept tuning it until we had a clear signal. A message from the government was being played.

‘People of America, this is the President speaking. Our country has been decimated by the largest act of mass murder this planet has ever seen. But we are not the only ones; the entire world has been affected by this unprecedented disaster. On December 21st 2012, The Soviet Union, along with most of Asia, launched more than 200 nuclear warheads to locations all over the world. Sadly, the UDG was not completed and was unable to intercept all of these missiles. As a result, the world has been scorched by the flames of nuclear war.

But, this isn’t the end. The communists weren’t content with destroying our country; following the attacks, they launched a full scale invasion on America and Europe. Our troops have been fighting the communists for 2 months now. A large part of our armed forces has been destroyed by the nuclear attack and so, sadly, this is the main reason for this broadcast. I am asking any, and all, men and women who are over the age of 16 to rise to the call. If you want to fight for freedom, for liberty, for the sake of this country then I urge you to do so.

I regret to inform you that the Eastern coast is the worst affected, states such as Florida, South and North Carolina, New York and Michigan have been completely decimated. The Western Coast was the least affected, but this doesn’t mean by any margin that it has escaped unscathed. Southern California, Washington and Arizona were hit by several missiles each.


Most of the initial, deadly fallout from the blasts has passed so it will be safe for you to emerge soon. But, some areas of the country are experiencing heavy fighting as our troops valiantly try to fend off the attackers.

Those of you who want to fight, I ask you to get to your nearest Army barracks as quickly as possible. You will undergo an emergency 4 week training program and will then be assigned to a brigade to defend our country. Those of you who do not wish to fight, please, stay in your shelters as long as possible.

People of America, I ask you to be strong in this time of great difficulty. I hope that we will be able to return to a state of peace in the near future and begin to pick up the pieces of what once was civilization. Following this broadcast will be several other broadcasts detailing the specifics of exiting your shelter safely and where the nearest recruiting stations are to you.
God speed, and God bless.

My Dad became ecstatic; his chance to finally fight the communists had come. I listened in to the following broadcasts to find out about the worst hit areas and where was safe to emerge. Luckily, our town hadn’t been that badly affected. The nearest missile struck over 100 miles north of here so we could leave the shelter the next day. I then listened in to the next broadcast which detailed the locations of the nearest recruiting stations. I hadn’t told my Dad yet; my plan was to tell him as we emerged onto the surface, and whether or not he agreed with me, it was what I was going to do. Due to the state of Emergency, under 18’s no longer needed parental consent to join up.

I am going to fight, and someday you will be proud of me Dad…someday.

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 5

I strap on the gas mask as I move down the runway; my vision is narrowed around the edges slightly, but it’s bearable. The smell of rubber fills my nostrils; breathing through the respirator feels strange and unnatural. I take a few deep breaths to let myself adjust before carrying on. Three UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters are waiting at the bottom of the runway, ready to take us to the mission zone. Their spinning rotor blades create a low hum; large plumes of snow billow around them from the aerodynamic force.

The Black Hawks have a smooth chassis with an elongated frontal section; two M134 Miniguns are mounted on either side of the body. As I get closer, the humming noise turns into a loud drone. A soldier walks over to me; the gas mask and urban camoflauge give him a frightening aura. ‘Jess, you’re in chopper number 2!’ he shouts, as he struggles to make himself heard over the sound of the helicopters. ‘Most of the squad are inside and ready to go, get your self strapped in ‘cos we’re heading out in less than a minute.’ Although I can’t see his face behind the gas mask, I instantly recognise the voice. It’s Corporal David Langley; he’s one of the few men who treats me like a soldier. ‘This is gonna’ be a real tough mission, we’re flying into one of the largest hotspots this side of the country. Keep your head down, do what you’re told and you’ll be fine. Good luck!’

I jog over to the helicopter sitting second from the front, grab the railing and haul myself in. A seat on the left hand side, next to the open doors, is free so I sit there. It feels comfortable compared to sitting on cold benches and the hard ground. I rest my weapon on my lap, strap on the seatbelt and await takeoff. A short burst of static comes in over the radio, followed with ‘Bravo one this is ground control, you are cleared for take off; Operation Valhalla is a go, I repeat, Operation Valhalla is a go’. The pilot tilts his head towards us; light catches the top of his visor. ‘You boys ready to go?’ he asks. ‘You bet we are’ replies one of the soldiers, this is followed up with a unified cry of ‘Hooah!’

I’m pushed downwards into my seat as the helicopter takes off; my vision blurs slightly as I become disoriented. After a few seconds it clears. ‘It’s gonna be about a 20 minute ride ‘till we get to the LZ’ says the pilot. The gas masks make it awkward to speak, so the only sounds are those of the rotor blades and the engine. I focus my vision outside and take in the scenery; we pass over a forest, but there is no greenery. The majority of plant life has been killed off due to the extremely low temperatures. The view is depressing, so I begin to check my equipment.

’10 minutes ‘till we reach the LZ’, shouts the pilot. The soldier in front of me starts talking to his neighbor, ‘And if you look to your left, you’ll be able to see the lovely view of what once was a small town. It's now been replaced with something much more attractive, as you can plainly see’. I glance out the open doorway and I’m greeted with an eerie sight. We are at ground zero for one of the nuclear explosions. A crater, about 4 miles squared, envelops my vision. The ground has been scorched a deep black, in the crater there is nothing left. Near the edges, I can make out the remnants of the town. Buildings, if not completely eradicated, have been reduced to rubble. I wonder how many people died here. Hundreds? Thousands? Maybe more…

‘Two minutes ‘till the LZ, get your gear ready!’ bellows the pilot. I double check my weapon, gas mask and suit. Everything’s good. As we approach our target, the outlines of small buildings become visible on the horizon; they stand valiantly amongst there fallen brethren. Suddenly, the scene is violently disrupted; the area lights up as tracers begin to streak the sky. ‘Shit! The LZ’s hot!' Shouts the pilot in a panicked voice. ‘This area’s no good, I’m gonna have to drop you further back’. ‘Fuck that!’ replies one of the soldiers, ‘I ‘aint walking out in the open through commie infested territory!’ I look outside to see where the tracers are coming from; suddenly, large smoke trails begin to tear their way through the sky. Voices come in over the radio, ‘Titan two this is Titan one, you have multiple RPGs inbound; evade, evade!' The pilot pulls desperately on the flight controls, I cling to the railings as the chopper veers sharply to the left. Two rockets miss the body by a hairs breadth as the third drops harmlessly to the ground. ‘You want me to keep flying through this shit?’ retorts the pilot. The soldier lowers his head and averts his gaze elsewhere.

One of the other Black Hawks isn’t so lucky. A rocket plunges into its tail; the explosion tears it off in the process. The radio bursts into life once more, ‘This is Titan 3, we have taken a direct hit. The fuel lines bust, I’m losing power.’ ‘Titan 3 this is Titan 1, are you able to recover?’ There is a short pause filled with static. ‘Negative, my tail’s gone. The engines have died and we’re losing altitude. I’m going in for a crash landing’. Out the doorway I can see the chopper spinning uncontrollably; a fire is raging on what’s left of the tail, emitting large plumes of black smoke. My ears start to roar as the two M134 Miniguns on our Black Hawk open fire in the direction of the RPG trails. Their rate of fire is phenomenal; empty shell casings pour out the side, raining down on the ground below us.

Titan 3 continues to spin as it becomes dangerously close to the ground, the constant rotation is almost mesmerizing. Judging by its trajectory, it looks as if it’s going to land in a nearby field. We begin to pull back from the area; out of range from the RPGs. Titan 3 is now about ten feet from the ground. The radio kicks in again, ‘Brace, brace, brace!’ There is a loud boom as the chassis smashes forcefully into the earth. An enormous amount of dust and snow is sent into the air, blocking it from view. ‘Gravity’s a bitch my friend’ comments one of younger soldiers. As insensitive as it sounds, the phrase is oddly fitting. The smoke clears and the helicopter comes back into view, well, what's left of it that is.
There's no movement down there.

After backtracking for about a minute, the chopper begins to hover over a small residential district. There are a few houses still intact, but the majority have been levelled. ‘Here’s the new LZ, you’re gonna have to head two clicks due North of this position to reach the original LZ, then a further three clicks to reach your mission objective. I’ll be at the rendezvous at 0900, good luck!’ That is approximately 3 hours from now. Ropes are thrown out either side of the chopper through the two open doors; each being tied to a small pole on the floor. They uncoil like snakes as they plummet towards the Earth. One by one, the men file out of the door way. Now several men have exited, it’s my turn; I grab the rope firmly between my hands and begin to slide down. As the ground rushes up to meet me, I forget to brace; the shock from the impact winds me and I end up as a crumpled heap on the floor. A hand appears in front of my face, I glance upwards and take the gesture; he pulls me up to my feet. The soldier looks at me, although his facial expression is covered by his gas mask; something tells me he’s grinning. ‘No time for sleeping now, we’ve got a long day ahead of us’

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 6
I couldn’t sleep that night, knowing that I was so close to tasting freedom. As soon as it was morning I rushed out to the main living quarters; it would appear that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait. My Dad was there, standing near the hatch. We exchanged glances for a few seconds, and then there was a long awkward silence. My mom came in and the tension eased slightly. ‘So, is everyone ready?’ asked my Dad, ‘Do you all have your packs with food, water, extra clothing?’ ‘We sure are’ replied my Mom, she seemed happier than she’d been in a while. In fact, we were all a lot happier with the prospect of leaving this hole.

We gathered around the ladder, waiting to get out. My Dad climbed up first and entered the code on the console, releasing the safety mechanisms on the door. There was a loud hiss, followed by the clank of metal. My Dad pulled the lever and pushed the hatch open. I was momentarily blinded; I hadn’t seen natural light for over 2 months. As my Dad climbed out, me and my Mom both followed eagerly.

The site that awaited me wasn’t as welcoming as I’d imagined. The sky was a murky grey; sunlight barely perforated the clouds and it gave the area an ominous mood. Our house had been trashed, along with the rest of the town. Shattered glass lay everywhere, this place must have been seen as a looters paradise. It was bitterly cold; I reached into my backpack to get out my extra jacket.

We looked through our house to see if we could find anything of use, most of the valuables had been taken and there was no food left. ‘So what now?’ my Mom asked. ‘We wait here until noon, that’s when the army do there runs through this town; at least that’s what they said on the radio. In the meantime, we should try and find anything of use’ replied my Dad. ‘I’ll go checkout the town, see if I ca’- I began, but I was interrupted by my Dad. ‘No way, God knows what the hells happening further in town. Bandits, raiders, scavengers; they’d kill you without a second thought.' He takes the M1 Carbine from his back and loads it, ‘I’ll go check out the town, you wait here with your Mom’. And that was that decided, I had no say in the matter.

After about an hour of rummaging through the house for personal possessions with my Mom, my Dad returned. He had a few tins of food, a couple packs of batteries and some empty bottles. ‘This was all I could find, damn looters didn’t leave anything’ he sighed. ‘We can fill these bottles with water, the more we can carry the better.’ I checked my watch; it was 10:30am; just one hour and a half left. ‘Once the military comes through, they’ll probably take us to one of the nearby camps where we can stay.’ said my Dad. There was a long pause. My mom breaks the silence, ‘I take it you’re…not coming’ she said in a depressed voice. ‘Of course not! You heard the president; this country needs all the help it can get in fighting those commie bastards. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I stand down and let this country be taken by the reds.’ replied my father.

I went over the plan in my head. When the military arrived, I’d tell my Dad about plans for joining up. He couldn’t refuse right in front of them, especially as they were accepting all sexes and were in desperate need of troops. Even if he did try and stop me, he couldn’t; new laws stated that anyone over the age of 16 can join up without parental consent due to the desperate state of the military. He might even welcome my desire to join up, maybe then he’ll respect me and turn back into the loving father I used to know. I guess that was just wishful thinking…

[Bobo-Chan]

Chapter 7
I can feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins, energy fills my body; almost overflowing. ‘Go’ whispers the Sergeant, in response I sprint across the street to a nearby overturned car. I check left; there’s an empty alleyway next to a destroyed building. To the right there is a large, desolate parking lot. Straight ahead there is a long street, most of the buildings have collapsed and there aren’t any adequate firing positions; it’s all clear. I give the signal to the Sergeant, telling him it’s safe to move. The rest of the squad make their way towards my position.

Shortly after touch down, we received new orders from command to secure the downed Black Hawk and check for any survivors. We’ve split up into four squads, consisting of about six to seven men each; we are to encompass the perimeter of the downed chopper and move in. Titan three had crashed in a large open field, so the plan is to have Alpha and Bravo team provide cover from the tree line, whilst Charlie and Delta move in to secure. I’m part of Charlie squad.

We are now on the outskirts of the destroyed town; I look over the top of the car and I can see Titan three in the middle of the field. There is a thin group of trees on the Eastern flank, providing a small amount of cover; Alpha and Bravo team are lying in the undergrowth, waiting for Charlie and Delta to move into position. We’re a lot more on edge now, being so close to the Soviet firing positions that opened up on us just 30 minutes prior. Despite the freezing temperatures, I’m beginning to sweat. The chemical suit clings to my skin; I crave tearing it off and diving into a cool shower. My sense of smell is rendered useless by the gas mask, the taste of disinfectant tortures my taste buds. But, I cast these nuisances aside and focus upon the mission.

All four teams are now in position; Alpha and Bravo are waiting in the tree line, about 30 metres to the right of them, me and the rest of Charlie squad are taking cover behind a tractor; Delta squad are ready on the other side of the field, crouching in a small infiltration trench. The Sergeant begins to speak, ‘Remember, the key is to stay low and move fast. I’m almost 100 percent sure that the commies have got eyes on this bird, so were likely to come under fire when we break cover. Don’t stop, you stop you’re dead; just keep moving. Don't pop any smokes unless we actually come under fire, there's no point in needlessly giving away our position. When we reach the chopper, check for any survivors. Once the chopper is secure, Delta team will set down the explosives; when they give the signal, it’s time to get the hell outta’ there. Keep each other covered, remember your training and you will make it out of this.’ ‘Yes sir’ we all reply, if a little half heartedly. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks this mission is fubar.

‘Move out!’ commands the Sergeant. I leap up from my position behind the tractor and begin to run towards the chopper. The distance is daunting; there is about 200 metres to cover before we get there; ample time to be gunned down. I push those thoughts out of my mind and set my sights upon our goal. The rucksack thuds against my back, the suit chaffs at my thighs and the gas mask is beginning to fog up. I flick the safety on my rifle and set the firing mode to semi automatic. The chopper draws ever closer; almost half way there. My mind begins to fill with hope; maybe they aren’t watching our position, this could be a clean run. My train of thought is broken by a loud crack in the distance. Something whizzes past my shoulder and lands forcefully into the chest of the soldier next to me. He hits the dirt with a sickening thud; a crimson liquid begins to ooze into the pure white snow surrounding him. I stop dead in my tracks, ‘Shit, we’ve got a man down!’ I yell. Just as I stoop down to help him, someone grabs my arm and pulls me forwards. ‘Forget him, you stop now and you’re dead too.’ yells the soldier pulling me. ‘But we can’t ju-’ ‘Can it lady, the missions more important than one soldier. If that snipers able to nail a moving object from over 800 meters away, then he’ll have no trouble hitting a stationary one.’ As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s right; so I carry on.

Gunfire is now erupting from all sides. Alpha and Bravo team are both laying down heavy suppressive fire in the direction of the sniper shot, but the Soviets have three advantages. They have higher ground, they have adequate cover, and they know exactly where we are. I've never been so scared in my life; bullets kick up snow all around me, several members of my squad now lie dead on the route to the chopper. I contemplate throwing out a smoke grenade, but it's pointless; by the time it deploys I will already have reached my destination, or I'll be dead. I'm filled with relief as I finally arrive at the crash site, I dive to the ground to take cover; several men from Charlie and Delta are crouched low behind the crumpled chassis.

‘What’s the situation?’ I ask. ‘Three KIA from Charlie squad, four from Delta; no survivors in the chopper’ replies the Sergeant from Delta squad. That reminds me, I look around for my Sergeant; but he isn’t here. ‘He’s dead’ says one of the soldiers ‘took a sniper round right off the bat.’ Shit, that was the Sergeant? ‘What we need to do now is lay down the explosives, and get the fuck out of this crossfire’ continues the soldier. ‘Great, we got just one little problem though’ adds the Sergeant from Delta squad. ‘Our explosives expert, who was carrying all of the ordnance, is lying dead out in the open.’ ‘God damn it…fuck it then, we’ll just leave this bird and get out of here’ decides one of the soldiers, ‘That’s a negative’ replies the Sergeant, ‘We have strict orders to ensure the destruction of this chopper’, ‘Well what the fuck do you suggest we do?’ demands the soldier. ‘You’d better watch your mouth private, I am your superior officer, and under no circumstances do you speak to me that way’ ‘Fuck this!’ yells the soldier, ‘this whole god damn mission was fubar right from the start, I’m getting out of here whilst I’ve still got the chance!’ He gets up, and before the Sergeant gets a chance to reply, a spurt of blood coats his visor. The soldier is now standing there; a bullet hole cut straight through his helmet, mask and skull. His body slumps lifelessly to the floor, blood begins to pool around his head.

The Sergeant wipes his mask with his sleeve and carries on nonchalantly, ‘So, we’re gonna’ need someone to retrieve those explosives. Any volunteers?’ There is a stony silence. His eyes meet mine; I know what’s coming next.